“Why would anyone?” Dogtooth watched him with gleaming eyes.
“I guess I don’t know, Dogtooth. I myself have never felt that need.”
Dogtooth rolled to his side and propped his head in his left palm. “You are special, Pondwader. Because you are a Lightning Boy, you have been protected and petted your whole life. Musselwhite has not. No,” he murmured, “far from it Some day soon you must ask Seedpod to tell you what Cottonmouth did to Musselwhite when she was a little girl—ten-and-one summers, if I recall correctly. So … unfortunate.”
“What?” Pondwader asked sharply. “What did he do to her?”
“It is not my place to tell you such things. I do not even know whether she remembers—or whether Seedpod would reveal the secret to another living soul. He covered it up as quick as a ferret snatching a mouse, to protect her, of course. But you must get him to tell you. It’s important that you know.”
The ominous tone of Dogtooth’s voice frightened Pondwader. What could have been so terrible that Seedpod had chosen to hide the truth from everyone, including his clan? Seedpod had obviously felt that having the truth widely known would damage Musselwhite. But there were few crimes which would warrant punishing a child. Had he been protecting Cottonmouth? And how could Musselwhite herself have “forgotten” what had happened?
Pondwader said, “Is that why you came here? You wanted me to ask Seedpod about this event? Why? What difference will it make?”
A squirrel chittered out in the forest—probably being hunted by a night bird. Pondwader brought his gaze back to Dogtooth and found the old man’s eyes glinting.
In a hoarse whisper, Dogtooth said, “It just may save—your life—and hers. Very soon, you and Musselwhite will be going on a dangerous journey. You must know who she is—what made her who she is—before you leave.”
“What journey? Where will we be going?”
Dogtooth broke into that lopsided grin again. “Tell me, what did it feel like when the baby bird pecked through its shell? Did the flash of light blind you? I’ve always wondered.”
Pondwader’s mouth gaped. “How did you know?”
“Well every Lightning Boy goes through—”
“Every Lightning Boy!” Pondwader yelled, and then forced his voice lower. “You mean others have gone through this before me?”
“What? Of course! The Blue Lightning Boy had a far worse time of it than you. He was deathly afraid of water, and his clan had to bind him up like a netted turkey and throw him in the Pond weighted down by rocks.” Dogtooth tugged at his earlobe and grimaced. “Well, legends say that when the Blue Lightning Boy got to the surface, gasping and spitting, he was so terrified that the chick had already hatched.”
Pondwader’s hands knotted in his robe. “I—I don’t … Are you trying to tell me that fear has something to do with the Bird’s growth?”
“Everything is connected, Pondwader. You know that. How many people do you know who hide their heads every time a bad lightning storm comes? Many, I’ll bet.”
“What in the world does that have to do with the Lightning Bird glowing in my chest?”
“Why, it has everything to do with the Bird in your chest.” Dogtooth blinked. “Think about it.”
Pondwader did. “Do you mean that people’s fears draw the storm? Or make it worse? Does fear feed the Bird? I thought Lightning Birds ate whales and dolphins, and other sea creatures.”
“Yes.”
“Yes to what?” Pondwader shook his fists at the darkness. “The Bird feeds on fear?” He peered solemnly into the old lunatic’s eyes, and Dogtooth gazed back with unnerving intentness.
“Pondwader, don’t you care why your brilliant new soul came to see me?”
Pondwader lowered his fists to his lap. “Yes, I—I care. But … I don’t understand why it would fly off to talk to you when it hasn’t spoken to me at all.”
“It hasn’t?” Dogtooth’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “Not even one word?”
“No!”
“Well”—he waved a hand—“it will. When the time is right. And after it does you’ll be able to do all sorts of wondrous things, like calling rain from a clear sky, and—”
“Dogtooth.” Pondwader’s gaze darted around uncomfortably. “What did it say to you?”
“You didn’t even realize it had flown away, did you?”
“No,” Pondwader whispered in awe. “How could it do that without my knowing it?”
“It’s quite common. Souls do that all the time. They fly here and there while you’re sleeping. That’s why souls know so many things that people don’t—they are explorers. And you have a rather rambunctious Bird inside you. He darted me right out of a dead sleep.” Dogtooth scratched his backside, as if it were still sore. “Wanted to talk about that Dream I had. Do you recall my Dream?”